Wolves howling in the distance,
but clearly coming her way.
She contemplated her options,
she was sure she couldn't stay.

As an Olympian jumper,
she thought about the top.
Wasn't sure she could make it,
couldn't do the Fosbury Flop.

Had cleared that height before,
but the razor wire was more,
with the cuts that it would score,
might match what wolves tore.

She planned her route carefully,
and started out with a slow trot.
Away from the wall just far enough,
to give it all that she's got.

Running with all of her might,
with the moon shining on the wall,
there was no turning back now,
she launched, giving it her all.

She didn't feel the blade rip,
cleared and prepared to land.
Her adrenaline eliminated pain,
but her death was close at hand.

From within the gut,
bloody little head uncovered.
A filly rose on shaky feet,
the farmer soon discovered.